


underneath the ground beyond all peace

by pallasjoanna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Hades & Persephone au, Hades!Tsukki, M/M, Persephone!Kuroo, Russian translation by Arisa_Ridder, brief discussion of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7177685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasjoanna/pseuds/pallasjoanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gods aren’t quite living, but Kuroo makes him think that he could be an exception because Kuroo’s dominion over the earth in spring and summer may be the closest thing Kei will know of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	underneath the ground beyond all peace

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just to preempt the probably inevitable “But PJ, isn’t it problematic to romanticize the Hades and Persephone myth?” read [here](http://anightvaleintern.tumblr.com/post/145632363621/bonkai-diaries-bunjanecrocker-luxlustravi) and [here](http://everthehero.tumblr.com/post/78230423097/notamorningbird-lillian-raven) (the comic inspired the fic). Tl;dr, Persephone rocked her status as the Queen of the Underworld and is more badass than what your Lit teacher probably tells you, and Hades and Persephone are probably the most consensual (no really there are so many versions of myths) and chillest ship in Greek mythology. Title comes from ‘Under Mountain Under Ground’ by The Lighthouse and the Whaler.
> 
> UPDATE: has a [ russian translation ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4528523)by [Arisa_Ridder](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisa_Ridder/pseuds/Arisa_Ridder)!!

If Kei’s going to hear one more time about how being the Lord of the Underworld is straightforward enough and undemanding, he’s going to toss them into Tartarus himself, mortal or not. The dead are neverending, his kingdom ever growing, and it has always been his duty to keep this side of the balance no matter what.

Nobody makes that easy for him. There are heroes who storm here for their loved ones, just because they think they have fulfilled the wishes of another god, they can just _take_. And capriciousness isn’t an exclusively mortal trait, but many gods have it in spades, and Kei gets the short end of the stick from their mischief up above.

Kei supposes that Akaashi had done his best this time too, but Kei could’ve done without another one of Bokuto’s summer storms, now that there’s a longer-than-usual line of souls waiting to cross the Styx. Kei braces himself. There are souls accepting or at least resigned to their fate. Kei likes them the most. There are souls who are shocked by the suddenness of their death. Nothing he can’t handle.

But there are souls who plead with him to let them go back to the surface, because it’s not their time (of course it is; the Fates decreed it), because they need to get back to someone, because there is so much they haven’t done, because because _because_. Kei always says no to them, and each time, a murmur runs throughout the hall, one just barely discernible from Kei’s vantage on his throne.

“ _If mercy is what you want from Hades_ ,” the whispers always go, “ _then wait for the last day of summer, the first day of fall_.”

(A misconception, most likely borne from that time he gave an exception to that lyre player, but never again, unless he absolutely has to.)

It does nothing to lighten his mood; it sours it, in fact, and he retires to his chambers as soon as there’s a lull in the line of supplicants. He’ll receive them at another time when he’s gotten through with his other work, and maybe, perhaps, when the throne beside him doesn’t feel so empty.

There is a single rotten red camellia in a vase on his table, although this time it’s accompanied by a tall stack of scrolls, lists of the dead and their judgments. Kei doesn’t have the heart to throw the flower out yet because his husband always brings one every time he comes back, no matter how many times Kei reminds him that the living can’t thrive here.

And when Kei does, Kuroo always laughs, threads his fingers through Kei’s hair, leans in for a kiss.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he’s said once.

Kei had argued the semantics; _Gods aren’t quite living but deathless, Tetsu_ – but their arguments tend to be sidetracked when they’re pressed skin to skin underneath the sheets, Kuroo’s mouth on Kei’s neck, Kei’s hands tracing his face, and both eager to make the most out of their time together. Gods aren’t quite living, but Kuroo makes him think that he could be an exception because Kuroo’s dominion over the earth in spring and summer may be the closest thing Kei will know of it.

 _Gods_ , Kei thinks and snatches a scroll with enough force to nearly topple the pile and send the vase crashing to the floor. He misses Kuroo.

It’s not a thought he entertains or admits to himself when he can, but it’s disturbingly easy to when he’s alone. It’s pathetic because Kei had been fine for millennia before Kuroo came along. He was fine when Kuroo fell into the Underworld, if inconvenienced because of the fact that all of Olympus was breathing down Kei’s neck while Kuroo walked the shores of the rivers like he was born here instead of under blue skies. Kei was not so fine (it was one of the few times when he had felt plainly terrified) when he’d realized that Kuroo had already sunk his claws into Kei’s heart and made him realize that six months won’t ever, ever be enough in their immortal lives.

That said, Kuroo could’ve done them both a favor and eaten more than six seeds, he thinks darkly, not really meaning it, before he resumes work.

\--

There really isn’t a measure of time here except for the number of souls that pass. He’s not sure of that either as his eyes move down the lines of text, both wishing that he could be done with this but at the same time, Kei is not in the habit of being complacent in his duty.

But when Kei hears Yamaguchi step into his room, that’s when he knows he must have spent a relatively long time already.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s voice snaps him out of his haze; Kei may have been reading the same line twice over now. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Kei scowls, not really looking. A few more and he’s done. “Who? I swear if it’s Hinata and Kageyama again—“ He can already feel the expected headache at the mere thought of the two. “Anyway, can’t you handle them for me?”

“Oh no. I’ve still got souls to collect, and I have a feeling that this visitor is going to take up more than just a little bit of your time.”

Kei isn’t sure if Yamaguchi was actually teasing him, as distracted as he is, but he replies, “Fine. How much time?”

“I’m hoping six months,” a deeper voice says, rich in amusement and achingly familiar. “Unless somebody I should know about got turned into a cow?”

Kei looks up so fast that he can feel a crick in his neck.

Yamaguchi leaves them both with a cheerful wave as he saunters out the door, and Kei is glad for that because the air feels thick like the prelude to a lightning strike, and he has never wanted to throw himself so badly into his husband’s arms this badly.

Except for last year. And every year before that.

Kuroo leans down to brush a hand against Kei’s cheek, and it’s the work of a moment to decide to roll up the scroll, get out of his seat, and hug Kuroo with all he can muster. Kuroo is garbed in the midnight black robes that he has taken to wearing in the Underworld instead of the usual red he wears on the surface. Kei has never known spring or summer, but Kuroo may be the closest thing: his hair, eternally messy, still carries the smell of sun and earth; and his eyes, glittering with warmth in the dim light. He is so tangibly real in Kei’s arms that his heart just _aches_ with it, the best kind.

Kuroo laughs, low and bright in Kei’s ears. “Someone’s missed me,” he says, trying to pull Kei even closer to him. He can’t even properly reply to that. A stray thought about how humans once had four arms, four legs, and two heads filters itself into his mind, but there’s no time for that when Kei presses his mouth to Kuroo’s, insistent, impatient and wanting, and utterly unbefitting for two who are deathless and not quite living. Kei couldn’t care less.

“You’re early,” Kei breathes into the space between them when they part. “Not that I’m complaining, but your mother isn’t going to be storming the Underworld again, is she?”

Kuroo smirks; Kei loves it as much as it irks him which is to say, a lot, and Kuroo isn’t even trying to get a rise out of him right now. He absently presses a thumb onto Kei’s bottom lip. “You didn’t seem to mind when you asked me to marry you.”

“Just _who_ asked whom?”

Before Kuroo can reply, Kei pushes him onto the bed, and they fall down together. That’s the most coherent sentence either of them string for a long while.

\--

(Kuroo produces a blue flower from his cloak, bent and already wilting, but with a gentle touch from his fingers, the color becomes vibrant again. “Here.” He passes it to Kei. “It’s called a forget-me-not.”

The stem still feels impossibly fragile in Kei’s hands. This time, Kei doesn’t question the practicality of the gift, even if he knows that it will start to wilt again by winter’s end when Kuroo has to leave. Actually, he’d rather not think about that right now. “It’s beautiful,” Kei says sincerely, always has, ever since Kuroo found out that only asphodels grew in Hades and had done his best to try and grow flowers here (only briefly successful) with his own power. “What does it mean this time?”

Kuroo hums, wraps an arm around Kei’s stomach. “You’ll figure it out.”

Kei thinks about the red camellia, which Kuroo had said meant _being in love_ , though Kei is no less charmed by the fact that it also means _perishing with grace_. Being who he is, he can appreciate that. The year before, a fringed orchid: _my thoughts will follow you into your dreams_ ; two years before, an obvious red rose.

So Kei may have more than a good idea of what this means, but he’d still like to hear it from Kuroo anyway.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had to get this out of my system before hell year officially starts tomorrow. *prayer hands emoji*
> 
> Also this AU isn't actually fully sketched out yet. Like I think Bokuto would probably be Zeus-ish (with none of the assholery), Hinata and Kageyama are demigod heroes who make frequent trips to the underworld because of their quests and give Tsukishima a headache on a regular basis, and Yamaguchi is Thanatos. Kuroo would have probably gotten to the underworld through accidentally stumbling on a secret entrance (haha curiosity killed the cat) and then he chills out in the Underworld because it's fine right? At least his mother isn't breathing down his neck anymore, but then he starts falling in love with Tsukishima (he takes the realization better than Tsukki does) and eats the pomegranate seeds before he really has to leave.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://pallasjoannas.tumblr.com)


End file.
